


scream down the airwaves, whisper in my ear (are you listening?)

by epicureanEmpath



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bondage, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Cock Bondage, Dave is kind of ridiculous but we love him, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Gags, Humor, Irony, M/M, Multi, Quadrant Vacillation, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epicureanEmpath/pseuds/epicureanEmpath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How do you get yourself into these things, Dave?</p>
            </blockquote>





	scream down the airwaves, whisper in my ear (are you listening?)

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic turned out a lot more silly than sexy, in my opinion, but it was fun to write. XD I got inspired by Grimmy [homosexualpancakes.tumblr.com], who draws amazing porn. Hot damn. I wondered how Dave would get himself into a situation like this and then my headcanons took over. XD
> 
> Karkat and Dave are kismeses, and John is in each of their flushed quadrants. John is the only known human to have both a troll and a human in his flushed quadrant. It's weird – especially for Karkat, who has self-esteem issues – but they make it work. Mostly because Karkat and Dave can work out their issues in sexy, sexy ways.
> 
> Ideal post-Sburb situation, I guess. Trolls and humans coexisting on a planet they created together. John, Dave and Karkat share a house. Parts of it get destroyed on a regular basis, especially John's lab where the ectomachine lives.
> 
> Thanks for the inspiration, Grimmy! Enjoy.

You are beginning to wish you hadn't called Karkat vanilla.

Like most of the arguments you inflict on your kismesis, this one started with some light teasing. You don't even remember how you got onto the topic. All you said was, “Heh, Karkat? Please. He's completely vanilla. Comes from watching so many romcoms.”

You're not sure if it was your tone, your volume, or the fact you said it _to John_ that made Karkat stop dead in his tracks. You smiled your little coolkid smile, anticipating Karkat's usual epic single-breath rant. But Karkat only narrowed his gaze.

“Just because I watch romcoms doesn't mean I can't take sex up a notch or ten,” he said. “Where the fuck were you educated?”

“Prove it,” you said.

Karkat looked at you like you were about to stick your hand in the cage that read “Don't Feed the Barkbeast”. But he only shook his head.

“Okay,” he said. “Tomorrow night, my respiteblock. And don't forget – you started it.”

“Sure,” you said, impudently jutting your chin. John looked between you and Karkat, and smiled behind his hand. As the matesprit in this weird quadrangle, John knows by now not to interfere in righteous kismesis smackdowns. Of the sexy kind or otherwise.

But even you weren't prepared for this.

Your knees are already beginning to cramp, bound as they areto keep your thighs high and spread. Black cords wind a diamond pattern around your chest, constricting you to shallow breaths. Your cock took an immediate interest when Karkat pulled your wrists behind your back and tied them there; that's a kink you didn't know you had. Sure, you and Karkat have played around with toys before, but never to this extent. You didn't even know Karkat _had_ all this shit.

The worst part is the chair. You can feel the wood frame sticking to your ass; that and the precarious balance of your heels are the only things keeping you from sliding right off. If you try to move, or even squirm, you'd tip right over. You've never been this hard in your life.

Karkat checks his knots with methodical ease, then steps into your range of view. He curls his fingers around your cock, stroking lightly. His expression is so _weird,_ almost serene, as though he's been bodysnatched by someone who isn't eternally pissed at the world. You're not sure how you feel about it. You definitely know how your cock feels about it.

Your name is Dave Strider, and you have gotten yourself into one hell of a rumpus this time.

“I have to admit,” you say, flexing to test the cords, “I didn't expect you to be so... thorough.”

“That's the problem with you, Strider,” Karkat says. “You assume a hell of a lot and absorb almost no real information. It amazes me that you've survived this long.”

“That's all natural,” you say, trying not to pant as his thumb circles the head of your cock. “I'm a survivor. It's like fucking Lost all up in here. I'm an island and everybody else has been voted off.”

“Do you even listen to half of what comes out of your mouth?” Karkat asks.

“I drift in and out.”

Karkat rolls his eyes. He lets go of your cock and steps away to the narrow box on his dresser. That box is where the cords came from. You were pretty sure you knew Karkat's respiteblock inside and out by now, but you've never seen the box before.

“Look,” Karkat says. “I know you think of yourself as a gold medal winner in the Olympic category of being “cool”.” (He actually does the finger quotes around the word. He's so adorabloodthirsty.) “But in actual fact you are so transparent a piece of cling film could beat you in all the events. So I'm calling your bluff.”

He lifts three things out of the box and lays them on the dresser within your sight. Your breath absconds and the rest of your blood rushes south. Karkat plucks up another short length of cord from the box and comes back toward you.

“You like to fill our auricular spongeclots with useless drivel until our thinkpans overflow in an attempt to deflect us from any of your real desires,” Karkat says. (You still don't know where he gets the lung power for such amazing sentences.) “I've noticed it, and more importantly, so has John. So I'm going to do all three of us a favour. If you last half an hour without exercising your yap flapper, John and I will do, to you and to each other, whatever you want for a week. But you have to be _honest_ about it. Understand?”

“Wow,” you say. “That's so generous. I'm not surprised they knighted you.”

Karkat gives you a narrow-eyed look and draws the bindings in firm. You choke as you realize he's just bound your cock and balls. How the fuck did he know you'd been wondering about that?

“Did you get psychic and I didn't notice?”

Karkat rolls his eyes. Again. He does this a lot around you.

“Like I said: transparent. Also you should try clearing your browser history _before_ you let me on your husktop, if you don't want me noticing things.”

Okay, so maybe that attempt was a little blatant. But Jegus, he's really gone all out to answer the hint. You're not sure if that's a good thing or not. But you're pretty invested in sticking around to find out.

“Half an hour, you said?”

“Half an hour."

“Shouldn't be too hard,” you murmur, eyeing the ball gag and vibrator on the dresser. Wait, shit – vibrators, _plural._ You didn't notice the smaller one, shaped like an egg and no bigger than your thumb. Where the hell does _that_ go?

Karkat smirks. You realize you said that out loud and gulp. Karkat reaches into the box. He takes out a set of black straps and a bottle of lube.

Two minutes later, you find out where the small vibrator goes.

Ten minutes after that, Karkat steps back.

“You okay?” he asks.

You nod, breathing hard through your nose. This is closer to the edge than you've ever been. It's a fucking thrill ride, a hundred and eighteen miles per hour with all the windows down and the stereo thumping in time with your heart. You never thought _Karkat_ would be the one to take you there.

He's one hell of a kismesis, and you mean that unironically.

(You might even tell him that one day.)

Karkat checks his watch.

“Your half hour begins now,” he says, and turns the dials up.

~*~

You've lost track of time already. Only the sound of the front door opening downstairs snaps you out of your pleasure daze.

“Hey, Karkat?”

 _Oh fuck,_ you think from far away. _John._

Karkat's tongue stops circling your left nipple. He lifts his head and checks your breathing. Then he goes to the door.

“Up here, John.”

He steps into the hall and closes the door over behind him. You hear John's voice, lower now – it takes everything you have to zero in on what he's saying.

“How's he doing?”

“Surprisingly, it is not a disaster. No more than Strider usually is, anyway.”

“...Can I see?”

“I suppose. But no touching. I want him to _learn_ this time. If that's even possible.”

The door opens. You squint as your kismesis and your matesprit crowd the doorway, John craning his neck to look over Karkat's head. (He doesn't have to crane it far.)

 _Oh my god,_ you think, _they fucking_ _planned_ _this._

You didn't think John could be that devious. You're kind of impressed.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” John breathes.

You really wish you could tell him to get over here, but the ball gag won't allow it. You whine softly, pleading with your gaze fixed on John, until you remember Karkat left your shades on. _Dammit_!

Oh well. John's not looking at your face anyway.

“Jegus,” he says. “How long has he been like that?”

Karkat checks his watch again. In the rapidly dwindling part of your brain that notices this stuff, you're pleased to see it's the one you gave him for his last Wriggling Day. No matter how hard he tries, you're always the first to arrive at meetings. He complains that he never has time to prepare.

(You gave him the watch in a moment of vacillating weakness, an odd pity-rush because he hadn't _figured it out yet_. You've been arriving first on purpose for months, just to savour the five minutes he spends ranting at you while he sets up his projector presentations.)

You almost miss Karkat's answer - “About twenty minutes.” You groan. It felt like a lot longer. You still have ten minutes to go. And that's only if Karkat keeps his word.

John's fingers twitch at his sides.

“I really want to touch him.”

“Don't nod so much, Strider, you'll fall off the chair,” Karkat says.

“How did you even get him tied like that?”

“It's amazing what you can learn on the Internet these days.”

You whine again. They are talking entirely _too much._ You're going to fucking explode here. Except you're _not,_ because Karkat is a sadistic bastard. You can only sit and shake as the vibrators – one buried just shy of your prostate, the other strapped under the head of your cock – drive you fucking crazy. You would have come ten minutes ago if Karkat hadn't bound your cock and balls along with everything else.

The stupid thing is that you wanted this. You knew Karkat had to be a kinky bastard after he suggested you tie him up that one time. The way he writhed while you ate out his nook told you everything you needed to know. You've been trying to goad him to this ever since. You have nobody to blame but yourself.

John's talking again. You struggle to pay attention.

“Look at how hard he is,” John whispers. He reaches down to palm his own cock in solidarity. You whimper. (A Strider never backs down from a challenge, but sometimes the preservation of the family jewels trumps coolkid status.) Karkat clicks his tongue.

“Pathetic,” he says, but he's already moving forward. You try not to look too eager. Karkat unfastens the gag. His hands smell faintly of lube. You think of his tongue touching you in places you didn't know could feel that electric while you sit helpless, sweating and aching, unable to move. Ohh, the next time you get the upper hand some torment is in store for those nubby horns of his.

“Word,” Karkat says as soon as the gag is off.

“Green,” you gasp. “Fuck, Karkat, just let me come, fucking _please,_ I need--”

(You are not above begging when he looks at you like that. Even in front of John.)

Karkat fists his hand in your hair and tugs your head back. You choke on Karkat's tongue, fierce and slightly rough against yours. The sharp pinprick of his teeth sink into your lower lip before he pulls away.

“Water first, fuckass,” Karkat says in his leader voice. “I'll be right back. John, don't you _dare_ let him talk you into anything. You can pity him later.” He leaves the door open behind him.

John immediately steps forward between your spread thighs. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply. You moan into it, feeling the brush of John's thigh against your aching shame globes. Your neck is sore, but John's hands are cool and soft.

“You look really good like this,” John whispers. You shudder as another shockwave of pleasure rolls up your spine.

“John, please...”

“What the fuck did I tell you?”

John leaps back. Karkat glares at him as he comes forward with a water bottle – the kind with the squirt lid. John rubs his neck guiltily.

“Sorry. He's really hot.”

Karkat sighs.

“Don't do that, you'll pump up his ego again.” He pulls the stopper and looks at you. “Open your mouth, Strider.”

You comply, gulping greedily as Karkat pours cool water into your mouth. Some of it splashes over your chest, droplets trickling down your belly. You shiver, wishing the droplets were Karkat's tongue. Or John's. Or both. Fuck, both would be _awesome_ right now.

“Tell you what,” Karkat says. “I really shouldn't do this, since you're a douchebag and all, but if I let John fuck you with the vibrator will you just fucking _tell me_ the next time you want to do something kinky?”

“ _Yes,”_ you say. “Jegus Christ, I will do whatever the fuck you want, Karkat, just _let me come.”_

“Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it,” Karkat says dryly. He picks up the gag again. “Fine. But I'm not listening to you spew your ridiculous dirty talk while he's at it. Open up.”

“Aw fuck,” you say, but you don't actually protest. With the gag back in place you have permission to scream to your heart's content. And from the look in John's eyes, you will be doing that very soon.

“Can I...? Oh wow, these are already up as high as they can go,” John says, peering at the controls. “Okay then.” He grabs a cushion off the bed and kneels in front of the chair. You fight to breathe. This is so much better than all the ridiculous videos you've been watching. Karkat steps behind the chair, out of your line of sight. His hands grip your shoulders as John traces the edge of the vibrator with his fingers.

“You got him?” John says.

“He's not going anywhere,” Karkat says. “And John?”

“Yeah?”

“Take it slow.”

John nods. His eyes are such a brilliant blue. You've noticed the colour before, obviously, but they seem brighter as he looks at you now. John's tongue darts out to wet his lips. For agonizing seconds he considers his approach. You're kind of glad Karkat put the gag back in – you're never sure what to say when it's a quadrangle situation. John's too good for the shit you pull with Kk, but _fuck_ you want him to do something _now._

You sink your teeth into the gag when – fucking _finally –_ John eases the vibrator out. It comes free with a soft squelch, spilling lube onto the chair and John's fingers. You moan, halfway relieved to have it gone.

Until John pushes it back in.

Lights burst behind your eyes. You jerk in the chair and keen behind the gag. If it weren't for Karkat's grip on your shoulders you would have tipped the chair. John eases the vibrator out until only the tip still penetrates. You want to chase after it until John leans up and laps at the precome smeared sticky on your cock. Your eyes roll back in your head. They might actually kill you like this. And you wouldn't even mind.

A sharp pinch to your nipple brings you back to the surface.

“Hey,” Karkat says. “Stay with us, asshole.” He eases your shades off your face, peering upside down into your eyes. “Come on. Two more minutes, that was the deal.”

“Is he going into headspace?” John asks. There's a droplet, silver-white, at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, he's a mess. Still green, though.”

(You kind of love how he can just _tell.)_

Karkat slides his hands down your chest. He's hooked your sunglasses into the v-neck of his sweater. When he leans over you catch a glimpse of his collarbone. Fuck. If the asshole weren't so damn attractive you wouldn't be in this situation at all.

On the other hand, if Karkat weren't so damn attractive, you wouldn't be in this situation at all.

Karkat's fingers find the cock ties. Your brain and your dick cry _yes!_ in unison.

“One minute,” he murmurs. His teeth worry your earlobe. “C'mon, Strider, you can take it. Fuck, remind me to shut you up more often. I almost like you like this.”

Shit. You're _there._ You thought it was hot when he snapped at you, growled and called you a fuckass every ten seconds. Getting an almost-compliment shouldn't have this effect.

“Now, John.”

The pressure around your cock vanishes. John's tongue finds your perineum; Karkat gives your cock a firm stroke. You realize, dimly, that you're screaming.

The universe has narrowed to Karkat's hands and John's mouth and _fuck--_

you're falling and

falling

but they've caught you between them and it's okay.

~*~

The vibrators are gone before you're fully back in your head. Karkat eases the gag away and rubs the skin behind your ear. It feels really damn good. Every part of you aches but somehow it fades when he touches you there. One thing you'll say about his romcoms – they've made him excellent at aftercare.

Still never gonna tell him though.

(Well, maybe someday.)

“You green?” Karkat asks.

“Yeah,” you gasp. “Green as fuck. Oh my god.”

(You still think 'pirouette' made a better safeword. Karkat's such a tightnook about some things.)

Then John is beside you, smiling. He strokes his fingers through your hair and bends to kiss you.

“You are gorgeous,” he murmurs. “And that was way too much fun.”

You want to tell him how much you want to do that again. With both of them, or either one. You don't care. But what comes out is:

“I can't feel my toes.”

Together they untie you and lift you to the bed. Your limbs don't want to cooperate, so they scoop you up between them like you're sitting on a throne. Your head lolls on your neck, and you giggle when they dump you somewhat awkwardly on the mattress. You feel like you've got about eight more rubber limbs. Davethe octopus. Sexy.

“Jesus, he's wrecked,” John says. “I will go get a wash cloth.”

You open your eyes long enough to see Karkat leaning over you. Karkat's usual expression remains unmoved, but his eyes speak volumes. And the jerk thinks your shades are pretentious. He wouldn't if he knew half of what _his_ eyes say when he looks at you.

“You're gonna be in so much trouble,” you slur, grinning.

“Heard that one before,” Karkat says. But the tips of his ears have turned crimson again.

“Where'd you even get that stuff anyway?”

“I...” Oh, this is going to be good. You can _see_ his tactical retreat. “I... was going to let you use that stuff on me, until I figured out you wanted it more.”

Even as wrecked as you are, you can feel yourself stir at the thought. _Next time,_ you promise yourself, and him too.

“Hell yes,” you say. “Hell fucking yes.”

Karkat blushes. You didn't think shouty assholes could be so endearing before you met him.

“Go to sleep, fuckass,” he says, carding his fingers through your hair. “You're okay. We've got you.”

“I know,” you mumble around a yawn. You're asleep before John returns.

**Author's Note:**

> PS: This is my first Homestuck fanfic. I'm only about a third of the way through the Hivebent act. I don't even remember which act it is. XD Any mistakes or errors are entirely mine and I apologize, but there's just SO MUCH to absorb! Whuh.
> 
> Comments are love and kudos are story-hugs. :)


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